It must have been a very bad time for my parents, trapped in a marriage neither of them wanted, trapped into parenthood before either of them were ready for it. This was the time before the pill, before the sexual revolution and at a time when the expectation was (for the working classes at least) that you left school, got a job and got married. Once married you had babies and stayed married until one of you died and released you from the life sentence.
My parents stayed married for around 12 years. Most of those years were spend in a bubble of shouting, screaming, breaking furniture and the occasional spilling of blood, on both sides. I never saw my dad actually hit my mum but on one occasion, in a terrible argument, he threw a tin of Johnson’s baby powder at her. It hit her in the face and caused a deep gash near her one of her eyes. Pandemonium broke out as, what seemed like a torrent of blood, squirted from the wound, covering the furniture and my sister’s push chair, which had to be replaced. My mum must have run out of the flat because my next memory is of my dad on his hands and knees sobbing. Shortly afterwards my mum and I walked the short walk to St Thomas’ hospital so she could have the injury medically taken care off. This must have been around Christmas (’67) and the nurses were taking the decorations down and they gave me lots of angels and stars to play with. My mum had to wear an eye patch for weeks and then have some plastic surgery. The scar is still visible today – if you look closely enough.
The scars my husband gave me are fading too. The physical ones anyway. I have a feeling the mental ones will never fade. On the bright side they remind me of some of the lessons I had to learn. On the dark side they reiterate what my mum told me as I was growing up and that we all get what we deserve.
It took me a long time to get the image of my dad on his knees sobbing out of my mind. Up until that point I thought he was the strongest person in the world and I was scared by his reaction. Scared and convinced of his remorse. I knew this demonstration of remorse was important somehow and related it back to my mum, begging her to forgive him. She did. And it went a long way in making me forgive my husband when he cried and begged forgiveness for the injuries he caused me. It’s just what grown ups do isn’t it? Hurt each other and forgive each other.
I was a nightmare child. Clingy. Demanding. Petulant. I know these thing not only because this is what I have been told ‘we had to tie you in your cot because you just wouldn’t stay there’ and ‘I even had to take you to the toilet with me, you never gave me a minutes peace’ but because I can remember being clingy. I would wake up in the night and scream because I saw ghosts on the bedrooms walls, demanding that my mum held my hand until I fell asleep. I remember being in Ireland and worried that I would be left there, in that cold house, with those people who made my life hell, that my mum would return to England without me. So I used to scream and cry when she left the room. This did not make me popular.
Being popular for a child is pretty important. I was immensely relieved to hear my grandson’s teacher describe him as being a ‘valued and popular member of the class’. I did not become popular until I was in the 4th year (what is now Year 6). That was the year that I had my first proper hair cut. I can remember sitting in the hairdressers chair watching as my long lank hair was transformed with each snip into shiny, bouncy layers that framed my face – a face which now looked pretty. When I arrived at school the next day I was suddenly the most popular girl in school. All the girls said they loved my hair and, strangely, now all the boys wanted to talk to me and tease me. Prior to that ‘Feather Cut’ I had been invisible. That year also saw ‘hot pants’ become the coolest fashion item around and when I wore them on school journey I had several boys vying for my attention. A few months ago one of those boys (now a 50 year old Born Again Christian) gave me a copy of the photograph taken on that school journey. Thirty of us kids sat on the beach, dressed up in our Sunday best and there I am, hair feathered, wearing my hotpants (how I wish it was a colour photograph, they were purple Lurex) and wearing a huge smile.
My friend Kitty, who I met at secondary school later that year, says that my haircut was the reason she approached me in those first weeks at the new school. Kitty claims that she came up to me and asked me where I had gotten my hair cut. ‘Oh...my hair?’ I allegedly replied ‘it just grows this way’. Thinking about it now this wasn’t the lie Kitty thinks it was. If I had it cut before the school journey of 1971 it must have been cut in the spring of that year. So when I started secondary school in September it would have been months since the visit to the hairdressers and my hair would have grown considerably. So I was right when I said ‘it just grows this way’. I will have to remind her of this
Monday, 29 November 2010
Sunday, 28 November 2010
Domestic Bliss
‘I see Helena Bonham Carter has signed herself up for parenting classes’ I told my daughter.
‘Who’s she?’
‘You know, that posh Gothic looking actress, has a role in the Harry Potter films’
‘Oh, who does she play? Mrs Weasley?’
‘No, I can’t remember exactly who, Draco’s mum? Anyway she is a baddie in the films’
‘No, I don’t know who you mean’.
‘Yes, you do. She played a monkey in the film ‘Planet of the Apes’ and is sort of married to some director and is usually in films with Johnny Depp.’
My daughter’s ears prick up at the mention of Depp. ‘Hmmm, I think I know who you mean.’
‘Anyway she and her 'domestic partner' (wiki's words not mine) apparently live in separate houses next door to each other. Isn’t that civilised? That must be the secret of a happy 'almost marriage’. And how sensible is she to want to take parenting classes?’ I reached for the remote control and switched on the TV. A comedy sketch show was on, featuring impressionists. And who were they impersonating at that very moment? None other that Helena Bonham Carter and her husband Tim Burton!
There's more - we switched over and 'The Corpse Bride' was showing. This dark animation, directed by Burton, features the voices of Bonham and Depp.
There’s even more – later that evening deciding what to watch we came across ‘Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street’ the musical, starring, yes you’ve guessed it, Helen Bonham Carter and Johnny Depp (whose singing voice is obviously modelled on David Bowie’s, during Bowie’s ‘Anthony Newly’ stage of course). The film is directed by….Tim Burton. Spooky!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helena_Bonham_Carter
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sweeney_Todd:_The_Demon_Barber_of_Fleet_Street_(2007_film)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corpse_Bride
http://www.showbizspy.com/article/219016/helena-bonham-carter-admits-she-needs-parenting-classes-to-help-her-become-a-better-mom.html
They are certainly an unusual couple. Three years ago Helena, in an interview with Playboy magazine said the following:
The household of Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter is outfitted for Christmas – just not in the traditional manner.
"He (Burton) decorates it with dead babies and slime balls and things," Carter, 41, tells Playboy magazine in its January issue, about trimming the tree with boyfriend (of six years) Burton, 49. "It looks lovely and glittery from afar, and then as you get closer, you realize it's rather gory."
Lest anyone get the wrong idea, Carter, who stars with Johnny Depp in Burton's new movie musical Sweeney Todd, says, "We're not that dark. What I love about Tim is that he retains a certain innocence and a childlike quality. He sort of forgot to grow up. I think I've definitely forgotten to grow up, which is great."
Carter, who in 2003 gave birth to the couple's son Billy Ray – and is expecting their second child later this month – adds with a laugh, "At some point, [Billy] will probably want parents. He'll have to look elsewhere."Of their life at home life, where she and Burton share separate, yet attached, houses, Carter says: "Mine looks like Beatrix Potter. ... He has dead Oompa-Loompas around and multicolored fiberglass alien lamps. But then he has some nice red-button sofas from Sleepy Hollow. So it's a funny and good mix."
A newspaper had to print an apology earlier this year for saying the family lived in three connecting, but separate, houses. Burton in one, Carter in another and the children and their nanny in a third. The writer of the piece described this arrangement as 'chilling'. Certainly I would agree that three houses in which to house one small family is a bit extreme but if you can afford two connecting houses that sounds like heaven. Both Burton and Carter have their own tastes on interior design and both value their own 'space'.
'We haven't got a passageway [connecting the two homes] - we've just got a room ...between the two. And to me it makes complete sense: if you've got some money, and you can afford it, why not have your own space? It really is a great idea. You never have to compromise emotionally or feel invaded....I'm surprised when people find it weird, to be honest. It's not even that separate, really - it just looks like a quite big, strange house. And there's a sense of choice about things - you see each other when you want to.'
I am not sure what she means by 'compromise emotionally' and that by having your own space means never having to do it. If only it was that simple.
It seems Carter was very upset by the allegation that the children were housed in a 'unit' with just a nanny, and felt this painted her as a bad mother. Maybe this had something to do with her decision to take parenting classes. Or maybe Billy and Nell have reached the stage were they want grown ups as parents.
As a parent said to me this week, talking about his Autistic son, 'N is my teacher. I take my lead from him'.
‘Who’s she?’
‘You know, that posh Gothic looking actress, has a role in the Harry Potter films’
‘Oh, who does she play? Mrs Weasley?’
‘No, I can’t remember exactly who, Draco’s mum? Anyway she is a baddie in the films’
‘No, I don’t know who you mean’.
‘Yes, you do. She played a monkey in the film ‘Planet of the Apes’ and is sort of married to some director and is usually in films with Johnny Depp.’
My daughter’s ears prick up at the mention of Depp. ‘Hmmm, I think I know who you mean.’
‘Anyway she and her 'domestic partner' (wiki's words not mine) apparently live in separate houses next door to each other. Isn’t that civilised? That must be the secret of a happy 'almost marriage’. And how sensible is she to want to take parenting classes?’ I reached for the remote control and switched on the TV. A comedy sketch show was on, featuring impressionists. And who were they impersonating at that very moment? None other that Helena Bonham Carter and her husband Tim Burton!
There's more - we switched over and 'The Corpse Bride' was showing. This dark animation, directed by Burton, features the voices of Bonham and Depp.
There’s even more – later that evening deciding what to watch we came across ‘Sweeney Todd, The Demon Barber of Fleet Street’ the musical, starring, yes you’ve guessed it, Helen Bonham Carter and Johnny Depp (whose singing voice is obviously modelled on David Bowie’s, during Bowie’s ‘Anthony Newly’ stage of course). The film is directed by….Tim Burton. Spooky!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helena_Bonham_Carter
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sweeney_Todd:_The_Demon_Barber_of_Fleet_Street_(2007_film)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corpse_Bride
http://www.showbizspy.com/article/219016/helena-bonham-carter-admits-she-needs-parenting-classes-to-help-her-become-a-better-mom.html
They are certainly an unusual couple. Three years ago Helena, in an interview with Playboy magazine said the following:
The household of Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter is outfitted for Christmas – just not in the traditional manner.
"He (Burton) decorates it with dead babies and slime balls and things," Carter, 41, tells Playboy magazine in its January issue, about trimming the tree with boyfriend (of six years) Burton, 49. "It looks lovely and glittery from afar, and then as you get closer, you realize it's rather gory."
Lest anyone get the wrong idea, Carter, who stars with Johnny Depp in Burton's new movie musical Sweeney Todd, says, "We're not that dark. What I love about Tim is that he retains a certain innocence and a childlike quality. He sort of forgot to grow up. I think I've definitely forgotten to grow up, which is great."
Carter, who in 2003 gave birth to the couple's son Billy Ray – and is expecting their second child later this month – adds with a laugh, "At some point, [Billy] will probably want parents. He'll have to look elsewhere."Of their life at home life, where she and Burton share separate, yet attached, houses, Carter says: "Mine looks like Beatrix Potter. ... He has dead Oompa-Loompas around and multicolored fiberglass alien lamps. But then he has some nice red-button sofas from Sleepy Hollow. So it's a funny and good mix."
A newspaper had to print an apology earlier this year for saying the family lived in three connecting, but separate, houses. Burton in one, Carter in another and the children and their nanny in a third. The writer of the piece described this arrangement as 'chilling'. Certainly I would agree that three houses in which to house one small family is a bit extreme but if you can afford two connecting houses that sounds like heaven. Both Burton and Carter have their own tastes on interior design and both value their own 'space'.
'We haven't got a passageway [connecting the two homes] - we've just got a room ...between the two. And to me it makes complete sense: if you've got some money, and you can afford it, why not have your own space? It really is a great idea. You never have to compromise emotionally or feel invaded....I'm surprised when people find it weird, to be honest. It's not even that separate, really - it just looks like a quite big, strange house. And there's a sense of choice about things - you see each other when you want to.'
I am not sure what she means by 'compromise emotionally' and that by having your own space means never having to do it. If only it was that simple.
It seems Carter was very upset by the allegation that the children were housed in a 'unit' with just a nanny, and felt this painted her as a bad mother. Maybe this had something to do with her decision to take parenting classes. Or maybe Billy and Nell have reached the stage were they want grown ups as parents.
As a parent said to me this week, talking about his Autistic son, 'N is my teacher. I take my lead from him'.
Wednesday, 24 November 2010
Memories
We were not allowed to have a bath. You would think that having moved into a flat which not only had an indoor toilet but also boasted a separate bathroom we would have been allowed to use this wonderous thing. The flat we had lived in previously didn’t have such luxury. There we had to share the outside toilet with the other families on the landing and it did not have a bathroom. The flat only had two rooms, a living room with a scullery and a bedroom. The flat we moved to was on the forth floor of a block and Mum made the bathroom out of bounds the minute we moved in by filling the bath with soiled nappies (my sisters, not mine). Once a week she would take us to the local baths where you paid a couple of pennies for the use of hot water and a bath. This was not in Victorian or Edwardian times, but in the Swinging Sixties. My mum might have been worried about the cost of taking baths at home although I don’t think we were exactly poor. Certainly working class but not poor. My Dad had a good job in a factory and my mum always had nice new clothes. I think she worked once, for a couple of weeks, in a sausage factory. Nonetheless we were never allowed to have a bath, instead we had to have a ‘wash down’. I was only allowed to wash my hair once a week and even then I was only allowed to use half a sachet of shampoo. Conditioner hadn’t been invented, and even if it had been I would never have been allowed to use it. My mum only bought red Lifebuoy soap, Signal toothpaste and black hair dye. These were the only items, along with my dads razor, in the bathroom cabinet. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I rebelled and took a bath every night and washed my hair (unless I was having a period, as apparently you risked death by washing your hair at that time of the month). I was a very smelly child. And I wore National Health glasses. It is a wonder I had any friends.
My mum didn’t like cooking either. So if she had to cook it would be done grudgingly so that bits would be burnt, other bits would be raw and all of it was unappetising. The fridge was always empty – apart from a pint of milk. When I met my friend Kitty I was amazed to see the inside of her mum’s fridge, filled with cheeses, cold meats (in Tupperware! So posh), salads and soft drinks. It was a relief when my dad left and mum gave up cooking. The Chippie provided for my dietary needs.
My mum was very fussy about housework but not at all concerned about home comforts. The carpets were threadbare and the furniture had seen better days. Even when she could afford it mum would never spend money on things for the home. I was always embarrassed about asking friends home. They lived in homes with fitted carpets and G Plan furniture. My room in the flat near Lambeth Walk was empty except for a bed. My baby sister must have been in my mum and dads room. I don’t remember any toys and certainly no books. But I must have had toys. There is a photograph of me with a lot of dolls but this was taken at my Nan’s home so I suspect that was where my toys were. I did have a special doll, Bella, that must have lived with me because I would have been inconsolable without her. My Nan used to make her the most wonderful outfits. When I was 7 we moved to a flat in a tower block and I remember I had toys there. I had an Etch-a-Sketch and Spirograph which I loved. I never had a Sindy (too expensive) but I did have a Tressy doll. I also had a Silver Cross dolls pram (must have been a gift from my grandparent) before we moved but my Dad used it to move some items to the new flat and it broke under the weight. I know I was mortified.
My Mum and I spent one Christmas in Ireland when I was about 11. On Christmas day I didn't have any presents to open as they were all in London (as was my Dad). No one thought to buy me anything to open on the day itself and I remember watching my cousins excitingly opening their gifts and one of them allowing me to have a go on the Spacehopper that Santa had delivered. When I got home I was given my present, a Lilliput typewriter which I loved. But by the end of the week it had been hurled across the room and smashed to bits by my dad who had got annoyed by the tap tap tapping noise it made as I typed. My next door neighbour Jeanie had been given a typewriter too (the more expensive Petite Typewriter) and she used to let me have a go on hers until we fell out when she stole my Tressy.
My Nan used to buy me colouring pencils, magic markers, pads of paper and I loved staying with her because she played with me. She loved Scrabble and we would spend hours playing this, it was the travel version (Travel Scrabble) so it even came on holiday with us. My grandparents took me to the South Coast, Dorset and the Isle of Wight. My Nan would cook me tasty meals, my Grandad would take me everywhere with him. Every Friday night the 'Evening News' would publish a ramble and each weekend grandad would cut it out and we would walk it that weekend. My main memory of him is walking with him in bluebell woods singing 'Ive Got Sixpence' http://www.retro-lyrics.com/lyrics/ive-got-six-pence-lyrics-364.html and I don’t remember them ever shouting at me and they certainly never smacked me.
My Dad would play cards with me now and again. He would always play to win and would get very angry if I won a hand, which hardly ever happened as he was an excellent player and I wanted him to love me.
When I was 6 I asked if I could go to school on my own and my parents said ‘yes’. The journey was about a mile and took me across two main roads and a few less busy ones. Maybe they were looking rid of me. I used to go to the shops to buy dads paper when I was 5. On the way back I would walk along pretending to read it so that passers by would be impressed - 'look at that little girl reading the paper - she must be a genius'! When I was twelve I took over cooking Sunday dinner (the Chippie closed on Sundays). My mum would have had me up chimneys if London wasn't a smoke free zone.
Although my dad had a car I don’t remember ever being in it with him. Not surprisingly as he had a Bubble Car http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bubble_car. This gave way to a Ford Zodiac which I had to spend ages at the window to make sure no one nicked it. The only time I remember being in a car with him is after he and mum had split up and he took me to Southend in a beautiful blue Ford Cortina.
The toiletless flat was next to the factory where my dad worked. I used to see him as me and mum walked back from the shops and I loved the smell of sawdust and how kind his workmates were to me. I used to pick a pretty white flower (bineweed!) that grew on the fences surrounding the bombsites to give him. The firm used to give the children of its workers the most wonderful Christmas parties with lots of food and Santa would bring us amazing presents. One year they thought I was a boy (having a unisex name) and I got a tool kit. But the best thing was they would take us to the London Palladium to watch the pantomime. My mum came one year and embarrassed me by screaming ‘Malcolm I love you’ when the singer Malcolm Roberts came on stage in the 1971 production of Cinderella.
It is shocking that I never had any books. The only one I can remember is ‘Kittens with Mittens’ which I think belonged to my sister. When we moved to the flat in the tower block I joined the library and a whole new world opened up for me. A world of Hans Christian Anderson and Enid Blyton. I used to love going to that library. The children’s area was in the basement and was my favourite place to be. In fact I was exactly like Roald Dahl’s ‘Matilda’. And my mum and dad weren't very different to hers either.
Why am I sharing all this? Well kids, you aren't interested in this stuff now but one day you will be. I am going to ask my mum to talk to me about her childhood. She never has very much to say about it but I want to know what her home was like, what she was like in school, what her relationship with her parents was like and how things changed when her mother died. My mum was just 6 when her mum died and left a family of four children, my mum the youngest, with their father. Maybe that is why she struggled as a parent.
My mum came to England to be bridesmaid for her oldest sister and she never went back 'home' to live. She met my dad and they married. She was 23 and he was a mere 20. When I asked her why she married him (having been told she had never loved him) she said 'I fell in love with his mum and dad.'
10 months after they married I came into their life and for my mum this meant life was over. She hated being a parent, saw me as the reason she was trapped and spent the next 17 years telling me she hated me, I was stupid, ugly and that she tried to abort me but chickened out at the last minute. Abortions in 1960 were illegal and very risky and I know she tried drinking lots of gin in order to go through with it but it didn't numb her enough to put herself in the hands of back street abortionist. 'I wish you were dead' was the mantra of my childhood.
Even in my darkest moments I am always glad she failed.
I would have loved to have grown up in a proper house. With a garden. In a proper family. I would have loved to have had a pink bedroom filled with books and games and toys. I would have loved to have come home from school and be greeted by the smell of home cooking, to a mummy who smiled sometimes, kissed my cheek, and was happy to see me. I would have loved to chat to her about my day, show her my homework, be told how clever I was. How pretty. I would have loved to have been run a bubble bath (Matey) and told to make sure I washed behind my ears. I would have loved a dad who took the time to talk to me, to sit me on his knee and read to me. I would have loved to have got through one day without being hit, without shedding tears.
'When I was Seventeen' http://www.top40db.net/Lyrics/?SongID=73059 I ran away from home and from everything I had ever known. Well everything except the being hit and shedding tears bit.
My mum didn’t like cooking either. So if she had to cook it would be done grudgingly so that bits would be burnt, other bits would be raw and all of it was unappetising. The fridge was always empty – apart from a pint of milk. When I met my friend Kitty I was amazed to see the inside of her mum’s fridge, filled with cheeses, cold meats (in Tupperware! So posh), salads and soft drinks. It was a relief when my dad left and mum gave up cooking. The Chippie provided for my dietary needs.
My mum was very fussy about housework but not at all concerned about home comforts. The carpets were threadbare and the furniture had seen better days. Even when she could afford it mum would never spend money on things for the home. I was always embarrassed about asking friends home. They lived in homes with fitted carpets and G Plan furniture. My room in the flat near Lambeth Walk was empty except for a bed. My baby sister must have been in my mum and dads room. I don’t remember any toys and certainly no books. But I must have had toys. There is a photograph of me with a lot of dolls but this was taken at my Nan’s home so I suspect that was where my toys were. I did have a special doll, Bella, that must have lived with me because I would have been inconsolable without her. My Nan used to make her the most wonderful outfits. When I was 7 we moved to a flat in a tower block and I remember I had toys there. I had an Etch-a-Sketch and Spirograph which I loved. I never had a Sindy (too expensive) but I did have a Tressy doll. I also had a Silver Cross dolls pram (must have been a gift from my grandparent) before we moved but my Dad used it to move some items to the new flat and it broke under the weight. I know I was mortified.
My Mum and I spent one Christmas in Ireland when I was about 11. On Christmas day I didn't have any presents to open as they were all in London (as was my Dad). No one thought to buy me anything to open on the day itself and I remember watching my cousins excitingly opening their gifts and one of them allowing me to have a go on the Spacehopper that Santa had delivered. When I got home I was given my present, a Lilliput typewriter which I loved. But by the end of the week it had been hurled across the room and smashed to bits by my dad who had got annoyed by the tap tap tapping noise it made as I typed. My next door neighbour Jeanie had been given a typewriter too (the more expensive Petite Typewriter) and she used to let me have a go on hers until we fell out when she stole my Tressy.
My Nan used to buy me colouring pencils, magic markers, pads of paper and I loved staying with her because she played with me. She loved Scrabble and we would spend hours playing this, it was the travel version (Travel Scrabble) so it even came on holiday with us. My grandparents took me to the South Coast, Dorset and the Isle of Wight. My Nan would cook me tasty meals, my Grandad would take me everywhere with him. Every Friday night the 'Evening News' would publish a ramble and each weekend grandad would cut it out and we would walk it that weekend. My main memory of him is walking with him in bluebell woods singing 'Ive Got Sixpence' http://www.retro-lyrics.com/lyrics/ive-got-six-pence-lyrics-364.html and I don’t remember them ever shouting at me and they certainly never smacked me.
My Dad would play cards with me now and again. He would always play to win and would get very angry if I won a hand, which hardly ever happened as he was an excellent player and I wanted him to love me.
When I was 6 I asked if I could go to school on my own and my parents said ‘yes’. The journey was about a mile and took me across two main roads and a few less busy ones. Maybe they were looking rid of me. I used to go to the shops to buy dads paper when I was 5. On the way back I would walk along pretending to read it so that passers by would be impressed - 'look at that little girl reading the paper - she must be a genius'! When I was twelve I took over cooking Sunday dinner (the Chippie closed on Sundays). My mum would have had me up chimneys if London wasn't a smoke free zone.
Although my dad had a car I don’t remember ever being in it with him. Not surprisingly as he had a Bubble Car http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bubble_car. This gave way to a Ford Zodiac which I had to spend ages at the window to make sure no one nicked it. The only time I remember being in a car with him is after he and mum had split up and he took me to Southend in a beautiful blue Ford Cortina.
The toiletless flat was next to the factory where my dad worked. I used to see him as me and mum walked back from the shops and I loved the smell of sawdust and how kind his workmates were to me. I used to pick a pretty white flower (bineweed!) that grew on the fences surrounding the bombsites to give him. The firm used to give the children of its workers the most wonderful Christmas parties with lots of food and Santa would bring us amazing presents. One year they thought I was a boy (having a unisex name) and I got a tool kit. But the best thing was they would take us to the London Palladium to watch the pantomime. My mum came one year and embarrassed me by screaming ‘Malcolm I love you’ when the singer Malcolm Roberts came on stage in the 1971 production of Cinderella.
It is shocking that I never had any books. The only one I can remember is ‘Kittens with Mittens’ which I think belonged to my sister. When we moved to the flat in the tower block I joined the library and a whole new world opened up for me. A world of Hans Christian Anderson and Enid Blyton. I used to love going to that library. The children’s area was in the basement and was my favourite place to be. In fact I was exactly like Roald Dahl’s ‘Matilda’. And my mum and dad weren't very different to hers either.
Why am I sharing all this? Well kids, you aren't interested in this stuff now but one day you will be. I am going to ask my mum to talk to me about her childhood. She never has very much to say about it but I want to know what her home was like, what she was like in school, what her relationship with her parents was like and how things changed when her mother died. My mum was just 6 when her mum died and left a family of four children, my mum the youngest, with their father. Maybe that is why she struggled as a parent.
My mum came to England to be bridesmaid for her oldest sister and she never went back 'home' to live. She met my dad and they married. She was 23 and he was a mere 20. When I asked her why she married him (having been told she had never loved him) she said 'I fell in love with his mum and dad.'
10 months after they married I came into their life and for my mum this meant life was over. She hated being a parent, saw me as the reason she was trapped and spent the next 17 years telling me she hated me, I was stupid, ugly and that she tried to abort me but chickened out at the last minute. Abortions in 1960 were illegal and very risky and I know she tried drinking lots of gin in order to go through with it but it didn't numb her enough to put herself in the hands of back street abortionist. 'I wish you were dead' was the mantra of my childhood.
Even in my darkest moments I am always glad she failed.
I would have loved to have grown up in a proper house. With a garden. In a proper family. I would have loved to have had a pink bedroom filled with books and games and toys. I would have loved to have come home from school and be greeted by the smell of home cooking, to a mummy who smiled sometimes, kissed my cheek, and was happy to see me. I would have loved to chat to her about my day, show her my homework, be told how clever I was. How pretty. I would have loved to have been run a bubble bath (Matey) and told to make sure I washed behind my ears. I would have loved a dad who took the time to talk to me, to sit me on his knee and read to me. I would have loved to have got through one day without being hit, without shedding tears.
'When I was Seventeen' http://www.top40db.net/Lyrics/?SongID=73059 I ran away from home and from everything I had ever known. Well everything except the being hit and shedding tears bit.
Monday, 22 November 2010
Maxims
Living by the rules is not always easy. Living by maxims can be even more of a challenge. Take these, favoured by George V:
Teach me to be obedient to the rules of the game.
Teach me to distinguish between sentiment and sentimentality admiring the one and despising the other.
Teach me neither to proffer nor receive cheap praise.
If I am called upon to suffer, let me be like a well bred beast that goes away to suffer in silence.
Teach me to win, if I may; if I may not win, then above all teach me to be a good loser.
Teach me neither to cry for the moon nor over spilt milk.
Some maxims, like these for 'manhood' are a lot easier to adhere to:
Your dog must be larger than a toaster.
Tip well.
Never use the word 'blossom.'
Outperform the GPS.
Always hold the door.
Never use emoticons
Then there are maxims that, if taken note of, will help you get by in this harsh and demanding world:
If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.
He who hesitates is probably right.
To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal from many is research.
To succeed in politics, it is often necessary to rise above your principles.
Two wrongs are only the beginning.
Maxims for women:
Don't sweat the small stuff.
If you want everlasting love - surrender.
When you are old you will look at photographs of your younger self and marvel at how hot you were - and how stupid you were not to be able to see it. Enjoy your youth.
Max the maxims for a better life!
Teach me to be obedient to the rules of the game.
Teach me to distinguish between sentiment and sentimentality admiring the one and despising the other.
Teach me neither to proffer nor receive cheap praise.
If I am called upon to suffer, let me be like a well bred beast that goes away to suffer in silence.
Teach me to win, if I may; if I may not win, then above all teach me to be a good loser.
Teach me neither to cry for the moon nor over spilt milk.
Some maxims, like these for 'manhood' are a lot easier to adhere to:
Your dog must be larger than a toaster.
Tip well.
Never use the word 'blossom.'
Outperform the GPS.
Always hold the door.
Never use emoticons
Then there are maxims that, if taken note of, will help you get by in this harsh and demanding world:
If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.
He who hesitates is probably right.
To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism; to steal from many is research.
To succeed in politics, it is often necessary to rise above your principles.
Two wrongs are only the beginning.
Maxims for women:
Don't sweat the small stuff.
If you want everlasting love - surrender.
When you are old you will look at photographs of your younger self and marvel at how hot you were - and how stupid you were not to be able to see it. Enjoy your youth.
Max the maxims for a better life!
Sunday, 21 November 2010
The Man With The Key In His Hand
He said ‘take the time to indulge…
To find the space in your day, in your heart, in your mind
Wherever it is that your soul resides,
Search for a place to stop thinking and start being
To embrace the layers that are full of light and knowledge’
He said it would bring an understanding
That would ultimately set me free
He said all this…
The man with the key in his hand.
He said ‘be aware of your dark side and that of others…
It has its purpose, its aim, and its compelling attraction
Search for the meaning behind it
To reveal its secrets and harness its power,
Recognise the difference between feelings and emotions
He said it would bring an acceptance
That would ultimately set me free
He said all this…
The man with the key in his hand.
He said ‘Life is full of awe and wonder…
If you know where to search
You might find it in work that fulfills and excites you
Or in the discovery of your true self,
Look within carefully and deeply’
He said it would bring an awareness
That would ultimately set me free
He said all this…
The man with the key in his hand.
He said ‘Patience is a lesson worth learning
For life can be tiring and sometimes dull
Recognise the value of the journey,
Reflect, use meditation, control destructive emotions
Make time to take care of your soul’
He said it would bring a contentness
That would ultimately set me free
He said all this…
The man with the key in his hand.
He said ‘There is a right way to live
Whenever possible promote and pursue truth,
Strive for peace and battle for justice
For sometimes a peaceful man has to take up his sword
Be afraid, embrace your fear, let it feed your flame
He said it would bring a courage
That would ultimately set me free
He said all this…
To find the space in your day, in your heart, in your mind
Wherever it is that your soul resides,
Search for a place to stop thinking and start being
To embrace the layers that are full of light and knowledge’
He said it would bring an understanding
That would ultimately set me free
He said all this…
The man with the key in his hand.
He said ‘be aware of your dark side and that of others…
It has its purpose, its aim, and its compelling attraction
Search for the meaning behind it
To reveal its secrets and harness its power,
Recognise the difference between feelings and emotions
He said it would bring an acceptance
That would ultimately set me free
He said all this…
The man with the key in his hand.
He said ‘Life is full of awe and wonder…
If you know where to search
You might find it in work that fulfills and excites you
Or in the discovery of your true self,
Look within carefully and deeply’
He said it would bring an awareness
That would ultimately set me free
He said all this…
The man with the key in his hand.
He said ‘Patience is a lesson worth learning
For life can be tiring and sometimes dull
Recognise the value of the journey,
Reflect, use meditation, control destructive emotions
Make time to take care of your soul’
He said it would bring a contentness
That would ultimately set me free
He said all this…
The man with the key in his hand.
He said ‘There is a right way to live
Whenever possible promote and pursue truth,
Strive for peace and battle for justice
For sometimes a peaceful man has to take up his sword
Be afraid, embrace your fear, let it feed your flame
He said it would bring a courage
That would ultimately set me free
He said all this…
Gifted and Talented
I have some great dreams. Not as in Martin Luther Kings ‘I have a dream’ but as in sleeping dreams. Last night I dreamt the screenplay of a film which, on waking was crystal clear, but as the last remnants of sleep fell away I was left only with the title – ‘Gifted and Talented’ and a couple of the elements of the story line – two teachers on a G&T training weekend in some seaside town, who discover, along with the purpose of education, the fact they have great sex together.
My friend C was involved in this dream. In my dream she revealed that she used to be married to Bill Nighy and that he might be willing to play the part of the aging headteacher of the school that had sent our young idealistic lovers on the G&T training. Luckily C and Bill had remained on friendly terms and she felt it shouldn’t be too difficult to get him to agree to play the part for a nominal fee.
‘Gifted and Talented’ was intended to be a more realistic mix of films like ‘Nativity!’ starring Martin Freedman http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1242447/and ‘Happy Go Lucky’ directed by Mike Leigh http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1045670/. Both these films had Primary school teachers as the heroes. The trouble with having great dreams is waking up and realising your dreams will never become a reality. Which if different from the kind of dreams you have when you’re awake. For those there is always hope. This is particularly true starting tomorrow for Aquarians when the Sun moves into their sector of the solar chart. According to Sally Brompton this gives me and fellow Aquarians the opportunity to make a wish and watch it come true. My favourite Astrologer, Jonathan Cainer does not mention this amazing opportunity but talks instead of ‘a gap in the matrix’ which he says means that something I thought was one way is actually another. Maybe I should be careful what I wish for.
My friend C was involved in this dream. In my dream she revealed that she used to be married to Bill Nighy and that he might be willing to play the part of the aging headteacher of the school that had sent our young idealistic lovers on the G&T training. Luckily C and Bill had remained on friendly terms and she felt it shouldn’t be too difficult to get him to agree to play the part for a nominal fee.
‘Gifted and Talented’ was intended to be a more realistic mix of films like ‘Nativity!’ starring Martin Freedman http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1242447/and ‘Happy Go Lucky’ directed by Mike Leigh http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1045670/. Both these films had Primary school teachers as the heroes. The trouble with having great dreams is waking up and realising your dreams will never become a reality. Which if different from the kind of dreams you have when you’re awake. For those there is always hope. This is particularly true starting tomorrow for Aquarians when the Sun moves into their sector of the solar chart. According to Sally Brompton this gives me and fellow Aquarians the opportunity to make a wish and watch it come true. My favourite Astrologer, Jonathan Cainer does not mention this amazing opportunity but talks instead of ‘a gap in the matrix’ which he says means that something I thought was one way is actually another. Maybe I should be careful what I wish for.
Thursday, 18 November 2010
The secret of a happy marriage remains a secret.
I have yet to read a novel by Nora Ephron – mainly because her work is catorised as ‘chic lit’ and I don’t generally read chic lit. The films she is responsible for are also ‘chic’ films and, although enjoyable, they also are not really my thing. But I am getting old and in recent years Ephron has been writing about the aging process from a womans point of view so she has seeped into my consiousness. Ephron is an interesting woman.
Wiki:
Ephron was born in New York City, eldest of four daughters in a Jewish family, and grew up in Beverly Hills;[1] her parents, Henry and Phoebe Ephron, were both East Coast-born and screenwriters. Her sisters Delia and Amy are also screenwriters. Her sister Hallie Ephron is a journalist, book reviewer, and novelist who writes crime fiction. Ephron's parents based Sandra Dee's character in the play and the Jimmy Stewart film Take Her, She's Mine on their 22-year-old daughter Nora and her letters to them from college. Both became alcoholics during their declining years. She has been married three times. Her first marriage, to writer Dan Greenburg, ended in divorce after nine years. Her second was to journalist Carl Bernstein of Watergate fame in 1976. Ephron had an infant son, Jacob, and was pregnant with her second son, Max, in 1980 when she found out that of Bernstein was having an affair with their mutual friend, married British politician Margaret Jay. Ephron was inspired by the events to write the 1983 novel Heartburn, which was made into a 1986 film starring Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep. In the book, Ephron wrote of a husband named Mark, who was “capable of having sex with a Venetian blind.” She also said that the character Thelma (based on Margaret Jay) looked like a giraffe with "big feet. Ephron has been married for more than 20 years to screenwriter Nicholas Pileggi and lives in New York City.
Ephron has been in the news this week because her latest book 'I Remember Nothing' http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/40074698/ns/today-books has caused some debate. Alex Baldwin, the actor, has alledgedly had a swipe at Ephron and what he sees as her failure to move on after a messy divorce (her second, the first being as painless as a divorce can be).
The Guardian:
Is Nora Ephron the secret target of Alec Baldwin's attack on a divorcee?
The actor Alec Baldwin appears to have launched an attack on Oscar-winning director and writer Nora Ephron in online magazine the Huffington Post, to which they both contribute.
Earlier this week, Baldwin wrote a comment piece for the Huffington Post's divorce section extolling the virtues and health benefits of forgiving and forgetting messy settlements. The article referred to a friend of his, "Cal", the victim of what Baldwin sees as a continued campaign of malice from an ex-wife, "Dora", despite their having separated 30 years ago, and both being happily remarried and thereafter enjoying great professional success. Many have suggested these are lightly veiled references to Ephron and her ex-husband, the journalist Carl Bernstein, who had an affair with Margaret (later Baroness) Jay when Ephron was pregnant with their second son. She subsequently adapted the events into a novel, Heartburn, which was made into a successful film in 1986 starring Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep. Now married to Nicholas Pileggi – the screenwriter behind Goodfellas – Ephron recently published a new memoir that touches on the incident, I Remember Nothing: and Other Reflections, an extract from which ran in the Huffington Post on 8 November. It largely concerns the damaging impact of her divorce and her continued pain over the episode. In his piece, Baldwin makes reference to his own difficult separation (from his ex-wife, Kim Basinger), his "life-shortening custody battle" and the book he subsequently wrote about "the iniquities of family law, particularly in California". But Baldwin says he has now come to terms with the trauma, unlike "Cal's ex-wife [who] seems to have a condition that, sadly, you often see in high conflict divorces. She simply cannot shut up about her anger, her betrayal, her unresolved feelings, and her bottomless contempt for her ex, who has been a devoted and great father to their two wonderful children."
Baldwin heard a very different message from Ephrons words than I did. Maybe he is a friend of Bernstein? Yes, I too heard how hurt she was by her husbands ultimate betrayal. How the hurt continued to escalate as they both (but Bernstein in particular) handled the situation very badly. She says to her interviewer 'I mention all this so you will understand that this is part of the process: once you find out he's cheated on you, you have to keep finding it out, over and over and over again, until you've degraded yourself so completely that there's nothing left to do but walk out.' Her next comments, 'Now I think, of course, I think, who can possibly be faithful when they're young? I think, Stuff happens,' And, 'my religon is - get over it'. Does this sound like a bitter, angry woman? Not to me.
Here are some of her 'quotes':
'He was, in his way, as close to a Zen master as I've ever had, and all of us who fell under his influence began with his style and eventually ended up with our own.'
'Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.'
'Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I've accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficity disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it's a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it's a way of making contact with someone else's imagination after a day that's all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss.'
'In my sex fantasy, nobody ever loves me for my mind.'
'I have no desire to be dominated. Honestly I don't. And yet I find myself becoming angry when I'm not.'
'Sometimes I believe that some people are better at love than others, and sometimes I believe that everyone is faking it.'
These quotes are my thoughts. I wish they had sprung from my lips.
The Mail had the following article today:
Does divorce make you a better wife second time round?
By Tessa Cunningham and Eve Ahmed
Does suffering the pain of divorce mean you will try harder to make your next marriage work and, therefore, be a better wife? In her new book, I Remember Nothing, Nora Ephron, writer and director behind such films as When Harry Met Sally and Sleepless In Seattle, claims this is true.
There follows interviews with two twice married women, one who agrees with this premise and the other who doesn't. I suppose proof is in the pudding although I suspect the one who thinks she has learned from her mistakes will find out one day that she hasn't.
I may have blogged before that only one of my friends is happily married. It seems I was wrong.
None of them are.
Wiki:
Ephron was born in New York City, eldest of four daughters in a Jewish family, and grew up in Beverly Hills;[1] her parents, Henry and Phoebe Ephron, were both East Coast-born and screenwriters. Her sisters Delia and Amy are also screenwriters. Her sister Hallie Ephron is a journalist, book reviewer, and novelist who writes crime fiction. Ephron's parents based Sandra Dee's character in the play and the Jimmy Stewart film Take Her, She's Mine on their 22-year-old daughter Nora and her letters to them from college. Both became alcoholics during their declining years. She has been married three times. Her first marriage, to writer Dan Greenburg, ended in divorce after nine years. Her second was to journalist Carl Bernstein of Watergate fame in 1976. Ephron had an infant son, Jacob, and was pregnant with her second son, Max, in 1980 when she found out that of Bernstein was having an affair with their mutual friend, married British politician Margaret Jay. Ephron was inspired by the events to write the 1983 novel Heartburn, which was made into a 1986 film starring Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep. In the book, Ephron wrote of a husband named Mark, who was “capable of having sex with a Venetian blind.” She also said that the character Thelma (based on Margaret Jay) looked like a giraffe with "big feet. Ephron has been married for more than 20 years to screenwriter Nicholas Pileggi and lives in New York City.
Ephron has been in the news this week because her latest book 'I Remember Nothing' http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/40074698/ns/today-books has caused some debate. Alex Baldwin, the actor, has alledgedly had a swipe at Ephron and what he sees as her failure to move on after a messy divorce (her second, the first being as painless as a divorce can be).
The Guardian:
Is Nora Ephron the secret target of Alec Baldwin's attack on a divorcee?
The actor Alec Baldwin appears to have launched an attack on Oscar-winning director and writer Nora Ephron in online magazine the Huffington Post, to which they both contribute.
Earlier this week, Baldwin wrote a comment piece for the Huffington Post's divorce section extolling the virtues and health benefits of forgiving and forgetting messy settlements. The article referred to a friend of his, "Cal", the victim of what Baldwin sees as a continued campaign of malice from an ex-wife, "Dora", despite their having separated 30 years ago, and both being happily remarried and thereafter enjoying great professional success. Many have suggested these are lightly veiled references to Ephron and her ex-husband, the journalist Carl Bernstein, who had an affair with Margaret (later Baroness) Jay when Ephron was pregnant with their second son. She subsequently adapted the events into a novel, Heartburn, which was made into a successful film in 1986 starring Jack Nicholson and Meryl Streep. Now married to Nicholas Pileggi – the screenwriter behind Goodfellas – Ephron recently published a new memoir that touches on the incident, I Remember Nothing: and Other Reflections, an extract from which ran in the Huffington Post on 8 November. It largely concerns the damaging impact of her divorce and her continued pain over the episode. In his piece, Baldwin makes reference to his own difficult separation (from his ex-wife, Kim Basinger), his "life-shortening custody battle" and the book he subsequently wrote about "the iniquities of family law, particularly in California". But Baldwin says he has now come to terms with the trauma, unlike "Cal's ex-wife [who] seems to have a condition that, sadly, you often see in high conflict divorces. She simply cannot shut up about her anger, her betrayal, her unresolved feelings, and her bottomless contempt for her ex, who has been a devoted and great father to their two wonderful children."
Baldwin heard a very different message from Ephrons words than I did. Maybe he is a friend of Bernstein? Yes, I too heard how hurt she was by her husbands ultimate betrayal. How the hurt continued to escalate as they both (but Bernstein in particular) handled the situation very badly. She says to her interviewer 'I mention all this so you will understand that this is part of the process: once you find out he's cheated on you, you have to keep finding it out, over and over and over again, until you've degraded yourself so completely that there's nothing left to do but walk out.' Her next comments, 'Now I think, of course, I think, who can possibly be faithful when they're young? I think, Stuff happens,' And, 'my religon is - get over it'. Does this sound like a bitter, angry woman? Not to me.
Here are some of her 'quotes':
'He was, in his way, as close to a Zen master as I've ever had, and all of us who fell under his influence began with his style and eventually ended up with our own.'
'Above all, be the heroine of your life, not the victim.'
'Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel like I've accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficity disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it's a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it's a way of making contact with someone else's imagination after a day that's all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss.'
'In my sex fantasy, nobody ever loves me for my mind.'
'I have no desire to be dominated. Honestly I don't. And yet I find myself becoming angry when I'm not.'
'Sometimes I believe that some people are better at love than others, and sometimes I believe that everyone is faking it.'
These quotes are my thoughts. I wish they had sprung from my lips.
The Mail had the following article today:
Does divorce make you a better wife second time round?
By Tessa Cunningham and Eve Ahmed
Does suffering the pain of divorce mean you will try harder to make your next marriage work and, therefore, be a better wife? In her new book, I Remember Nothing, Nora Ephron, writer and director behind such films as When Harry Met Sally and Sleepless In Seattle, claims this is true.
There follows interviews with two twice married women, one who agrees with this premise and the other who doesn't. I suppose proof is in the pudding although I suspect the one who thinks she has learned from her mistakes will find out one day that she hasn't.
I may have blogged before that only one of my friends is happily married. It seems I was wrong.
None of them are.
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About Me
- Katie Clapton
- Rat symbolizes such character traits as wit, imagination and curiosity. Rats have keen observation skills and with those skills they’re able to deduce much about other people and other situations. Overall, Rats are full of energy, talkative and charming.